


Company really isn't so bad

by orphan_account



Series: Adam Jensen x reader oneshots [1]
Category: Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: F/M, I swear in lieu of good writing, One Shot, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, first encounters, firstficplsdon'thitmeIhaveawifeand12kids, graveyard shift - Freeform, tough love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-24 10:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10739544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Everyone needs some time to get used to it, and the peace of Detroit's skyline can't do any harm.





	Company really isn't so bad

You stared at it. There was no pain, no dysfunction in the way the delicate muscle fibers moved around each other, or the way the nerves sent synthetic impulses to your brain in lieu of skin. It was just….cold. Not like a chilly cold, like air in the snowy winter that used to raise goosebumps on your skin. No, it felt like your new appendage was made out of ice. You were still able to feel heat, just not generate your own. That was pretty much, supposedly, the only flaw in this particular line of tech. And that was terrifying.

You curled your metal digits around the handle of the mug, determined to get it right this time. Thankfully, it had been your left arm that had been eviscerated in the Serif terrorist attack and not your right, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to return to work so soon. That crappy apartment downtown didn’t pay for itself. If your medical insurance with Serif hadn’t payed out, you didn’t know what you’d have to do.

Fingers firmly around the mug of dark liquid, you started to carefully bend the metal elbow joint to bring it to your lips. About half way up the shaking got so bad that you were just able to save the drinking apparatus with your dominant hand before it fell.

_Goddamn it, this again? That chick at the LIMB clinic said there was nothing wrong with it last time, that this would stop when your body "adapted"_

With a frustrated sign, you leaned back and stared at the cafeteria ceiling in dismay. Were you ever going to get used to this? How is anyone supposed to be ok with a quarter of their body being hacked off and replaced with metal and plastic? How does anyone cope with this?

You got up and shook your head in an attempt to clear your mind about the uncomfortable idea of amputation, about the remains of your left arm probably hitting the hospital floor with a wet slap as they hacked and slashed their way in to line up your nerves with the hunk of metal and wires, and oh god the blood it-

_No._

You gathered up your coffee, grilled cheese sandwich and other belongings, and made your way to the door labeled “Fire Escape”

_No._

You opened the door and shut it behind you, feeling the cool smoggy air of nighttime Detroit wash over you.

_No. It’s just these nightshifts. Everyone gets freaked out by graveyard shifts._

The area that was supposed to be the designated fire escape for that floor was, in reality, a lovely little nook on the side of the humongous building for you to hideaway in and eat or read during your breaks (and, to be honest, sometimes during your shifts). It probably used to be a little break area for the patrol men on duty, abandoned once the cafeteria got enough seats. That would explain the little rusted table with the few chairs surrounding it in the corner.

You smiled to yourself, the knowledge that you could just sit for a little while alone and look out at the Detroit lights made you feel more relaxed already.

You tuned the corner into this sacred place and your smile faded almost instantly.

_Oh_

A figure leaned against the guardrail, a trail of smoke rising slowly from his hand.

 _Goddamn it. It seemed like the universe really just didn’t want you to be happy today_. _The universe hadn’t wanted you to be happy for a long while now._

You sighed and turned on your heel, the dreams of a few quiet, personal moments vanquished.

_…No. You know what? You deserved a few minutes to relax. Who cares if someone else was there? You could easily just ignore him. It’s pretty much what you do to everyone else, anyway._

You turned back to the deep red table with the absolute determination to sit down, eat your snack, and read that shitty romance novel your Aunt got you for your birthday. Your shoes made little taps against the concrete as you walked towards the small table to the left of the smoking colleague. You couldn’t help passing a quick glace at him.

_Big guy, tall. Must be part of the security teams. He didn’t look like the dozens of grunts that patrolled the brightly lit hallways, though. Maybe a supervisor?_

You pulled back one of the chairs and winced at the piercing sound it made as the metal was dragged across the concrete. You were about to apologize for making such a god-awful sound, but he didn’t seem to even acknowledge your presence. You silently thanked whatever deity had given you this luck.

_He wanted to be left alone too._

It took a while, but soon you fell into the semi-comfortable rhythm of reading a few pages of **_“Space lovers: A forbidden intergalactic romance”_** , smiling to yourself because the writing was so terrible that it was actually good, and taking a bite out of your sandwich.

Life seemed pretty ok at this point.

The problem arose when, because of the natural movements you had automatically controlled your limbs with your entire life, you absentmindedly picked up your coffee mug with your left hand. Or, tried to anyway. The appendage began shaking immediately after bending the joint and you dropped the cup. What little liquid there was left somehow getting the remainder of your snack _and_ your book wet.

“Oh, god fucking damn it!”

You immediately stood up in an effort to prevent the caffeinated mess from dripping off the side of the table and staining your work clothes.

Again, your instinct took over and you forgot about the robotic limb’s particular handicap, making a grab for your now soaked possessions. The rapidly shaking metal clanged loudly several times against the top of the table. You let out an exasperated sigh of defeat and placed your good hand over your face in dismay.

You’re never going to get used to this. It’s a violation of nature; of course it’s hard to adjust to. How the hell do the other employees do it? So many people seemed so willing to get a robotic pair of legs, or a chip in their brain. Hell, some of your colleagues were happy, even excited, to get the free augmentations to replace the damage that the Serif incident that caused.

You brought your misbehaving hand up to take a long, hard look at it.

You needed to find a way to cope. There was no changing the fact that it would be stuck with you for the rest of your life, nothing changing the alien coldness that the aug provided. Nothing changing the fact that maybe, it would just never feel ri-

You were startled by an outstretched, black hand appearing just in front of yours, palm up.

Gasping, you quickly looked up to find yourself met with the chartreuse, eerily luminescent eyes of the stern looking man that had inadvertently accompanied you for the past half hour.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother-“

“Hand, now”

The stony authority of the gruff demand immediately made you place your hand into his, producing a series of small clinking sounds as fake limb rattled against fake limb.

_Arm augments? As well as those…things on his cheekbones, plus the eye interface? Damn, this guy must’ve been a fortune to build._

He started to look over the lower grade appendage, flipping it over occasionally, thumbs pressing down in certain places to check the consistency of the muscle fibers, obviously scanning it for any smaller weaknesses he might miss.

“….Why are you helping me?”

You were genuinely confused. This guy looked slightly pissed off constantly, not exactly the good Samaritan type. You were good at reading people, that’s how you got the job here, and the no-nonsense vibe from this guy made you expect nothing but cold callousness.

“You’re ruining my smoke break”

“You could’ve just told me to fuck off ”

“Well then I’d be an asshole, wouldn’t I?”

The words came with a slight tinge of annoyance as he worked his way up the length of your arm. You decided to just shut up and accept the favor.

It…was nice, having it held. The shaking was being suppressed in his firm grasp, and the act of having it touched by someone made it feel more like a part of you, rather than just an attachme-

He pressed his thumbs hard into the crook of your elbow.

An undignified shriek of pain left your mouth as you quickly withdrew your arm from the hold of the man and cradled it, as you would’ve with a limb of flesh and blood. A series of expletives that would put a sailor to shame came after it as you looked down at the hunk of metal. It felt like someone had stabbed you with a white hot knife, and simultaneously like the worse, flesh rotting infection a person could get. You had known the distinct feeling of small wounds being infected from experiences in childhood, but this was nothing like that.

_No, this was a whole other level._

Looking down at it, tears of pain pricking at your eyes, you saw the cause of the extreme discomfort. The grey muscle fibers that predominantly made up the inside of your elbow had been easily spread apart, creating a clear pathway to the inner machinery glistening with a clear liquid taking the place of blood.

“What did you do!? You better fucking pay to repair this!”

He gave you a slightly more aggressive glare than before and you suddenly became less confrontational. This guy looked like he could kill you in _at least_ 75 ways, and still leave no evidence. Pissing him off any further would not be a good idea.

He folded his arms.

“It’s not my fault it’s rejecting. Why the hell aren’t you taking Neuropozyne?”

Your mind flashed to the nearly full carton of individually packaged Neuropozyne epi-pens on your dresser, needles glinting in the clear plastic. _Taunting you._

You and needles didn’t exactly get along. Not that you didn’t understand the importance of the drug, you mainly just forgot to take it (mostly because using the dreaded needles elicited a massive panic attack, so your mind just subconsciously avoided it)

You mentally berated yourself for making such a stupid mistake and tried to stutter out an acceptable answer for the scowling man.

“I…um….I can …..only buy it occasionally. This job doesn’t really pay much and-“

“Bullshit. There’s a massive discount to all Serif employees who need it.”

You hung your head in shame, sighing at having been caught out in your lie, and mumbled another answer. Even with the inner ear enhancements he couldn’t quite pick it up.

“What?”

You spoke again, avoiding his eyes, barely a decibel higher.

“…needles….”

He then looked at you for what felt like a long while.

_He didn’t seem particularly angry…..maybe he understood? Sympathized with your fears?_

“You’re a fucking idiot. What are you, 12? Who in the right mind places a stupid little phobia _before their own damn life?_ You are _so_ privileged to even have access to Neuropozyne.Do you have any idea what rejection feels like? Give it a week at the most. Your entire arm will feel like that, then the infection spreads to the rest of your body through your blood. You’ll be wishing for death. _And there’s nearly nothing anyone can do to help you.”_

He gave the lecture in the same matter of fact, authoritarian way a parent would reprimand their child.

_He sounded exactly like your dad._

“IT’S NONE OF YOUR GODDAMN BUSINESS ASSHOLE! IF YOU’RE JUST GOING TO FUCKING BERATE ME THEN LEAVE!”

The loud exclamations echoed as it hit the walls of the small space.

_…..Where did that come from? You didn’t even know you were shouting until you had pronounced the last syllable. It was like someone had set off a very short fuse within you, and it exploded into a red hot rage without your consent._

_Your throat felt raw._

_He’d struck a nerve._

You both stayed still for a moment, rendered quiet from the sudden, unexpected outburst. His face for once not any showing aggression or annoyance, just a blank slate.

Then it changed.

His glasses slid up.

_Oh shit, oh fuck., way to go (y/n) now you’re going to get brutally murdered by Robocop because you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut._

You took a tentative step backwards.

“Look man, I-I-I’m sorry ok? I wasn’t thinking I-"

He started swiftly advancing towards you, hand reaching inside his thick coat.

_A shoulder holster? Fuck, was he going to shoot you!?_

You backed up until you hit wall.

_Cornered, no escape._

You remembered the door to the inside of the building, surely if you got shot or attacked near there someone would hear you? He was in-between you and your escape, but if you could just sprint around him-

Bursting off into a fast stumble/sprint, you pushed off of the wall, giving your body just enough of that extra boost of speed that actually made avoiding the rapidly approaching threat a possible reality.

You ducked around him, your smaller frame an advantage for once.

The door was just a few meters away.

_All you needed to do was alert security and that overly-augmented bastard would become target practi-_

A hand grasped the back of your shirt collar and you were promptly slammed to the ground. Not hard enough to break anything, but deliberately hard enough to knock the wind out of your lungs and likely leave nasty bruises on your knees.

You had just started to rise when a heavy weight pushed you down again, twisting your good arm behind your back and pressing your mechanical arm to the floor with his knee keeping it in place. Adrenaline and fear coursing through your veins, your basic survival instincts kicked in, every fiber of your being individually doing its part to try and fend off your attacker.

“Don’t-“ He growled and struggled to keep your arm pressed to the ground and your feet from kicking his back.

Realizing that you had no way of fighting back, you were just about to start screaming louder for help in the hopes that someone, _anyone_ would come running, when a cold hand was clamped firmly over your mouth.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be”

Your blood ran cold and you stilled for a moment.

_Oh god, what if he doesn’t kill you right away, what if he-_

You felt a small needle prick a vein in your arm for a second, a slight chill, and then the weight was lifted off of you.

“What…”

You turned around to face the winded man in front of you, rubbing your sore arm.

“I’ve killed so many people”

He braced his hands on his hips, trying to get more airflow to his lungs.

“and literally none of them have ever put up a fight like you just did”

You stared at him bewildered, mouth agape.

An empty Neuropozyne epi-pen lay on the ground in front of you.

Then your brain understood what just happened.

“……WHAT THE FUCK”

You hastily stood up, your breathing desperately trying to return back to it's natural rhythm. It would probably succeed, if you weren't shouting.

“What the fuck did you expect!? You can’t JUST TACKLE SOMEONE TO THE GROUND AND EXPECT THEM TO BE OK WITH IT.”

You tried to take a shaky breath, fists clenched out of extreme anger and disbelief. If you didn’t calm down soon, your arguments would devolve into 90% cussing him out and 10% logic. This guy was a fucking psycho. Although you felt ready to push him right off the balcony, you tried to remain coherent.

“That was assault. Add that to the non-consensual administration of a Class-A drug and I’ve got excellent grounds to have you fired, and sue you and Serif for the emotional and physical damag-“

“Look at your hand.” He interjected, expression that of bored exasperation.

You were broken out of your current activity of listing all the possible charges you could press against him by the sudden order.

“Like I’m going to fucking listen to you! You’re a borderline goddamn psychopath! Do you even work here!?"

He rolled his eyes, shades down, obviously not in the least effected by your threats of legal action. Sighing, he started towards you for the second time that night. You immediately turned around to run to the door, another little boost of adrenaline giving your body a kick in the fear department.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING COME NEAR ME AGAI-“

There was suddenly something smooth and cold enveloping your shoulders, holding your forearms...... warmth behind you……semi-hard material of a tactical vest against your back….that particular smell Marlboro Reds gave off when the thin wisps of smoke stuck to skin or clothing….

Strangely enough, despite your fears and racing heart, it didn’t seem like the worst place to be at that moment. At least you weren’t being body slammed face first into the ground this time.

“Look”

His voice was still gruff, still had that same matter-of-fact tone like he was the only adult in a world full of children, but this up close and just a few inches above your right ear where the taller man peered over to look at your arms, it sounded much more forgiving.

He carefully started to bend your left forearm so that the elbow joint, although still damaged, was forced to accommodate itself.

_Huh. He can be gentle when he wants to. Who would’ve guessed._

You looked at the steady limb, slowly balling up your fist and then straightening up your fingers, seeing the inner synthetic nerves through the hole in the crook in your elbow shift and swivel easily around each other.

“See? Works perfect, no shaking, no pain.”

He absentmindedly watched the inner machinery with you for a little while, the slight rise and fall of his chest against your back and his breath only just noticeable behind you. For those quick, insignificant seconds the world…..actually seemed pretty nice. Better than it had been for a while, at least.

He then caught himself and abruptly let go of you. Clearing his throat, he walked to where his coat lay on the concrete and shrugged it on.

“…..still doesn’t give you any right to attack me.”

“You wouldn’t have taken the Neuropozyne any other way.”

_…..Well, he probably wasn’t wrong, but still._

You turned to face him and crossed your newly fully functional arms.

"It’s really none of your business’’

He let out an impatient grunt as he crossed his own arms, almost mirroring you.

“Alright, let me break it down for you. Say you die because you’re an absolute idiot and don’t take the drug that literally keeps you alive _and that’s readily available to you and practically free”_

Your scowl got a littler deeper.

“I, then, have to do background checks on every single applicant available to replace you, as well as file an official report on your death, _as well_ as pull records showing whether or not you attended all your mandatory L.I.M.B clinic appointments and signed for your Neuropozyne. You know who I have to get all that information from? Fucking _Pritchard._ So yes, it is my goddamn business. I have enough to worry about. From now on you’re being put on the rejection watch list, daily mandatory Neuropozyne at the clinic downstairs. Miss one session and there'll be _severe_ repercussions.”

You thought about it for a second. Of course that didn’t justify assaulting you like that but….it made sense. As someone who got a pile of paper work the size of a small child tossed onto your desk nearly every morning, you knew how mundane red tape could turn you crazy. And you weren’t even that high up, he probably got 5 times the work you did _as well_ as having to do physical patrols and such. And throwing Pritchard into the mix? How on earth did this poor man stay sane?.....You didn’t like the idea of supervised injections, of course, but you understood that he didn’t really have a choice. _You_   didn’t really have a choice, at this point.

You were broken out of your thoughts by the man pushing past you, heading for the door.

“……Pritchard’s a complete dickhead”

He stopped in the doorway, back to you, glow from the cafeteria in front of him illuminating his silhouette.

“Uh huh”

A small breeze made you hair shift and his coat billow slightly.

“……(y/n)”

“Adam”

He shut the door behind himself and left you alone with the lights of Detroit, any comfort found within your previous isolation replaced with a sudden, intense longing for company.


End file.
